Best Gluten-Free Pancakes

Sunday Worthy Gluten-Free Pancakes

When I was small and clueless I ate the world in tiny bites. I chewed apologetically, counting each deliberate grind in time to the spiral beats of a song in my head that only I could hear. A tune not unlike a mosaic of bird
calls, and the powdery flutter of wings feeding on the garden lit by young Mozart's star.

Colors were a mysterious and spiritual language infused with deep logic and meaning. A lime green Jello box invited
tunneling and confusion, but the sweet brush of balsam as I
sought asylum beneath its rooted symmetry petted my pining fatherless heart.

Trust is green and hard to paint, but so is betrayal.

Not only the betrayal by others. The betrayal you participate in. The hammering of your spirit self into propriety. The brittle, safe shell you construct and will
curl inside for the rest of your life. You inhabit it sullenly.
Sometimes willingly. Because sometimes it works. Mostly to fool them.
Fool them into thinking you are someone else. Someone uncomplicated they
can love. Someone like themselves.

In order to keep
this armor snug you must give up on certain pieces of yourself. The ugly, muddy
parts those in charge find distasteful or irritating or inscrutable. What no one tells you is,
you end up missing these rejected quirks and knots. And spend the rest of your life searching for all those abandoned
bits and wrinkles. The shining fragments of earlier music and jewels of petaled rain.

But
if you are lucky you meet a painter.

A soul adept at conjuring a
thicket within their non-judging arms. You learn about green and its secret origin. How to stir ivory black with cadmium yellow and a teaspoonful of cerulean. You
dream of butterscotch pines and inhale and your spirit-body becomes too big for
the worn out shell.

So you crack it.

Sideways at first. Sticking out fingers and elbows when no one is looking. Digging out fragments long forgotten. Rubbing off neglect and holding wobbly pale parts of yourself closer to the sunlight.

And you meet yourself for the first time in a long, long time.

In the rays escaping.

***

I use a stove top griddle across two burners on medium-high heat.

For the first time in a long, long time I made pancakes.

Because I craved a family Sunday with pancakes.

And The Beatles.

And lots of maple syrup.

Use a ladle to pour the pancake batter.

Son Alex is using his patented swirl technique.

We add dark chocolate chips to half the pancakes for chocolate lovers.

Perfect gluten-free pancakes. Light and flavorful.

Our pancake taste testing plate. One bite left.

Karina's Gluten-Free Pancakes Recipe

Recipe posted August 2011 by Karina Allrich.

Since going gluten-free in 2001, I've tried most of the gluten-free pancake mixes out there. And I found them less than inspiring. So I tried making my own g-free flour blends. And most attempts were good. But not blog-worthy. The one exception was my fall centric Pumpkin Pancakes. They were lovely.

But today I wanted a wanted a pancake that didn't taste like pumpkin. A pancake recipe suitable for Sundays year round. A pancake reminiscent of my pre-celiac days. Light and flavorful, not too heavy. Not too thick. Just. You know. Perfect. And this combo worked. Like a charm. Magic happens.

Recipe Notes:

I used organic raw coconut oil in these pancakes and it added a delicate sweetness that was faintly coconutty- but not too much. Try it before you decide you'd rather use another oil.

The almond extract was my secret ingredient today- it rounded out the vanilla so perfectly. Heaven.

I've tried various gluten-free flour combos for pancakes, and this is by far the best yet. So I hesitate to offer substitution advice. If you must change ingredients, use the basic recipe as a guide and experiment, as I did.